Tangled Webs
by Rumrum
Summary: Elrond is baffled when Imladris is plagued by a practical joke of the most colourful proportions. Glorfindel is first - obviously the culprit was not of the faint-hearted, but with the Spring Festival approaching, nothing else could go wrong - could it?
1. A Day of Colour & Disaster

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: My thanks to Gaia caecilia who not only gave me the embryonic versions of the jokes used (go to her if you want good ideas), but also kindly beta'd my story.

A/N 2: No flames, if you please – they would singe my cat's whiskers!

**TANGLED WEBS**

_What a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive._

**CHAPTER 1 – A DAY OF COLOUR & DISASTER**

It was early morning and the peace of Imladris was suddenly shattered by a strangled cry that, oddly or indeed, worryingly, came from the rooms of the twice-born Balrog-slayer. Glorfindel was not known for his timidity.

Elrond – still clad in his nightshirt and dressing gown – rushed to his friend's aid, convinced that lives were at stake. He was followed closely by his chief-councillor.

The two black haired Elves burst into Glorfindel's room only to stop dead in their tracks. Glorfindel was standing in the middle of the room, naked as the day he was born, staring in utter shock and horror at his arms, which were, like the rest of his body, a bright primrose-yellow.

The relief, combined with the sight in front of them, sent both Elrond and Erestor into peals of laughter. Naturally, Glorfindel was not in the same frame of mind. He flushed to the points of his ears, the colour of which only deepened when he noticed the gaggle of giggling maids gathered in the doorway. He hastened to cover his nakedness with a convenient pillow from the sofa while Elrond took pity on his friend and closed the door firmly.

"What have you done to yourself, my friend?" he asked in an amazingly composed tone.

"Done? _Done_? I haven't done anything; I simply took my bath, only to get out and find that I was... yellow." The last word was whispered, as if Glorfindel was still in shock – which wasn't surprising, given the circumstances. Glorfindel was also not known for being lax where his appearance was concerned.

An awkward silence followed, broken eventually by Glorfindel himself.

"I'm going to have a bath." Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, Glorfindel strode into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Who could have done such a thing?" Erestor asked as he and Elrond made their way back to their own rooms, corridors now mercifully empty. Elrond didn't answer as he was thinking the exact same thing.

A little while later, Glorfindel's loud cry sounded out again, yet again drawing Elrond. Elrond was almost scared of what he would find this time. He found Glorfindel in the bathroom.

"Look at me! Just look at me!" Glorfindel spluttered. There was no wondering at Glorfindel's tone for the yellow colour of his skin had deepened as though a second 'layer' had been added. "How is this happening?"

Elrond considered the bath; it had not been emptied and was still full of bubbly foam, as was Glorfindel's habit. Elrond rolled up his sleeve and gingerly separated the foam from the water. He was confronted with a dark yellow colour. He then looked at the bottle of bath oil and tipped some on to his finger tips. The oil was its usual lemon-yellow colour, but a little rub of his fingers and thumb revealed the truth.

"Your bath oil has been dyed, Glorfindel," he stated simply. "You can use some of mine, if you like."

XXX

Glorfindel didn't turn up for breakfast; neither was he around to begin the daily training of the Imladris Guard. Elrond, now really quite worried for Glorfindel never missed a training session if he could help it, made his way to Glorfindel's rooms and knocked. There was no answer, so Elrond knocked again, only to get the same response.

"Glorfindel? It's Elrond – may I come in?" Elrond tried the door, but it was locked. "Glorfindel, I know you're in there. If you don't let me in, I'll just make use of the secret passage which leads to your bathroom." Elrond smiled when he heard a sigh of resignation and then the door was unlocked; he slipped inside.

Elrond could see immediately why Glorfindel had not yet emerged – all the skin which was not covered by Glorfindel's dressing gown still bore a distinctly yellow tint and it was rather... wrinkled – Glorfindel had evidently lain in the bath to within an inch of his skin's defences.

"It just won't wash off, Elrond, I've tried everything." The tone of Glorfindel's voice helped Elrond to compose himself.

"You can't hide in here forever, Glorfindel. Besides, you look far better than you did earlier and well... Thranduil is expected to arrive today and you know it's tradition for the Captain of the Guard to greet such a party."

"Can't Megíldur, my second-in-command do it?" Glorfindel's voice had taken on a distinctly elfling-like whine and Elrond had had enough of that bringing up his children; he raised an eyebrow. With a certain tone of finality to his voice he answered,

"No, apparently Megíldur's wife went into labour this morning." Seeing Glorfindel's face, Elrond added, "There's no one else, Glorfindel."

Nothing but deep affection for Elrond could make Glorfindel agree to such a scheme. Accordingly, a very dignified looking Glorfindel could be seen walking over to the stables. It was only the clench of his jaw and the steely glint in his eye that made people hold in their giggles.

Unfortunately, the party from Mirkwood wasn't quite so polite and Glorfindel had to endure many sniggers on the ride back towards the Last Homely House, especially after comments about him now truly being a 'golden lord' began to circulate. At least Thranduil had the decency to keep his amusement to himself – unless you counted the twinkle in his eye and mischievous quirk to his lips.

Thranduil and his party had arrived in time for the afternoon meal so Elrond led his guests to the dining hall. On the way, the group was confronted by a most extraordinary sight: a group of maids determinedly mopping a large blue stain upon the peach coloured floor. The two colours clashed horribly. The maid nearest to them looked up and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry for this, My Lords, but I was cleaning the floor as usual when it started to turn blue. I mopped harder, but the stain only increased. So I went to change the water only to come back and find that the stain had... well... dried. And now it's proving rather difficult to remove."

Elrond gave an exasperated sigh.

"Very well; follow me, everyone." And he led them to the dining hall using the slightly longer route.

Fortunately, this way also afforded some particularly spectacular views of the gardens and Elrond hoped this, combined with the Wood Elves' love of nature, would sufficiently distract his visitors from the problems occurring with the House and its inhabitants.

The plan worked – at least until one of the Mirkwood Elves decided to have some water instead of wine. It came out from the silver jug an especially interesting shade of...

"Orange?" exclaimed the Elf, causing everyone in the vicinity to stare at him momentarily before turning their attention full upon the unfortunate Lord of Imladris. Elrond closed his eyes with an inward sigh of 'why me?' Thranduil, sensing his distress, said lightly,

"That's certainly a remarkable shade of orange, Elrond, but we in Mirkwood prefer water of the clear variety." He then passed the water jug in front of him down the table.

However, the contents of that jug also proved to be similarly coloured, as did all the water jugs at the table.

"Who could be doing this?" Elrond whispered in Glorfindel's ear as he signalled for the jugs to be changed. Glorfindel merely shrugged. "Well, I hope nothing else turns up a different colour to what it's supposed to be."

The Valar, however, didn't seem to be smiling upon the hapless Elf-lord for when Erestor produced his parchment box for taking notes during the afternoon's meeting with Thranduil and his councillors and opened it, the normally quiet and collected advisor gave an unmistakable gasp of horror. When Elrond looked, he saw that every single leaf of parchment had been dyed, and the original beige colour of the parchment evidently hadn't mixed all too well with the dye for it had taken on a dirty sludge-green hue. Erestor was one of the most fastidious Elves Elrond had ever met so he was not in the least surprised when Erestor closed the box with a snap and hissed,

"If I ever find out who's responsible for this, I swear I'm going to ram my qui..." Luckily Erestor noticed that everyone was now staring at him in undisguised fascination and didn't finish venting his spleen. Instead, he pursed his lips and said, quite calmly,

"If you'll excuse me, My Lord, I'll just go and get some fresh parchment." He swept out of the council chamber.

Now if it had been a normal day, Elrond could have laughed it off, but when a fellow ruler came on an important visit, Elrond found himself wishing the ground would swallow him up. At least none of the Wood Elves were around to witness the commotion in the washing room. Someone had managed to sneak in and dye the entire contents of a tub, which just happened to include Elrond's nightshirts, a stinging scarlet colour. Not only that, they had also managed to dye another tub's contents, this time including bed sheets and pillow cases, a very bright shade of purple. Elrond could only accept it resignedly; at any rate, it would generally only himself and Celebrían who would see the former and the latter could easily be kept away from the guest quarters, and both would wash out... eventually... he hoped.

XXX

Maybe the Valar were smiling upon Elrond after all for, after the washing room incident, nothing else turned up an embarrassing or inconvenient colour.

Elrond found that he could actually laugh over the day's events, especially when nursing a goblet of wine with Glorfindel in his study. And the amusement over the original victim of the dying campaign had yet to fully subside.

"I wonder who the perpetrator was," said Glorfindel. "Of course, with so many incidents, it could have been more than one."

"Well, whoever it was, it can't be denied that was certainly a day of colour."

Glorfindel snorted.

"More like a day of disaster, if you ask me." Elrond smiled slightly as his friend studied his yellow-tinted skin. "I'm going to have a bath."

"What another one?"

Elrond didn't get a response.

TBC.


	2. The Challenge

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: I'd like to say a very big thank you to all my reviewers! I really go all girlishly excited when I see such glowing reviews, especially as I thought comedy wasn't really my strong point, but clearly it is :)

A/N 2: The culprit/s from the previous chapter now has/have an accomplice in the form of a young Legolas and this is down to an idea given to me by crimson cupcake, so thanks very much to her.

**CHAPTER 2 – THE CHALLENGE**

Legolas snuggled down under his covers, giggling for what seemed the millionth time that day. He still hadn't gotten over the sight of Lord Glorfindel riding up to them on his famous Asfaloth – one glowing a pure, brilliant white, the other a rather fetching shade of pink. Well, to the young Prince, he actually seemed to be more of a pale orange colour, owing to the faint yellow tint of his skin.

Only Legolas alone knew who was responsible – they had been planning it months, ever since they found out that Elrond and Thranduil were meeting for yet another of their boring councils. Legolas had been given hints as to what he could expect on arrival, but he had no idea that it would be taken to such an extreme.

Suddenly, there was a scuffling by the door and Legolas glanced over to see a piece of parchment being slipped under the crack. He leapt out of bed and picked it up – there was no signature, but he knew precisely who it was from after he'd read the following:

_What a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive._

_And when we've practiced quite a while, how vastly we improve our style._

_Do you accept the challenge?_

Of course he accepted and after the events of the day, he knew what kind of standard he would have to meet. It would seem that the council of Elrond and Thranduil would not be so boring after all...

XXX

The next morning, as was his habit, Legolas rose with the sun. Even though this was also the habit of most of his race, Legolas hoped that no one would be in the rooms that he was planning to visit.

As they progressed through breakfast, Legolas did his utmost to hold in his giggles. Luckily, others also seemed to having the same problem – Lord Glorfindel was still faintly yellow – but Legolas had another reason.

The meal ended and Elrond and Thranduil got up, ready to start that morning's council. As they walked towards the doors of the dining hall, there was an audible gasp from behind them, followed by one or two snorts that were, unmistakably, of the highly amused kind. Both rulers stopped and turned.

"What is it?" asked Elrond, perplexed.

"You... erm... may want... to change your robes, meleth-nin," answered Celebrían in an amazingly composed tone. She, like the others, was trying not to burst out laughing. "As do you, Your Majesty."

Both King and Lord looked at each other and then down at their robes, which were both made of the finest silk, rendering them irreparable. They looked and looked again, stunned into silence. Both sets of robes, one in the palest ice-blue, the other in the palest green and gold, had large, fuchsia-pink stains all over the backside.

"How is this possible?" said Thranduil in a low, strained voice. Celebrían looked down at her husband's chair and easily discerned the dye that the cushioned area had been laced with still glistening on the fabric.

"It was your chairs – there was dye in the cushions."

Elves are generally renowned for their vanity as well as their graceful agility and in the seconds that followed, the former shone, while the latter went out the window. With a scraping sound that would be painful even to human ears, every single chair in the hall was hurriedly pushed back as everyone scrambled to check their own clothing.

The gasps of relief were immense – everyone visibly relaxed. Everyone, that is, except the twice-born Balrog-slayer. With a cry, hands clasped against his dove-grey (well, technically now bright pink) backside, Glorfindel sprinted out of the hall. He was followed closely by Elrond and Thranduil.

XXX

Legolas could have followed the same pattern as before, but he wanted to be slightly different and to lull his 'victims' into a false sense of security – Thranduil had taught his son well. Accordingly, Legolas spent the rest of morning wandering the gardens and practising his archery, putting all thoughts of mischief-making out of his mind.

When the bell sounded for the afternoon meal, Legolas raced to the dining hall, wanting to see if the 'ghost' of the morning's joke still lingered. He wasn't disappointed. Before everyone took their seats there was an en masse, careful testing of said seats with everyone delicately placing their fingertips on to the cushions to see if they would be subject to the same humiliation as before. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Legolas also made a show of checking his own seat.

Throughout the meal, Legolas was slightly on edge because he remembered the antics of the previous day and didn't want anything to mar his plans for later, but apparently his accomplice was waiting to see what else he could do – maybe the dying of the cushions was good, but not good enough. Knowing he was being watched, Legolas nodded slightly in agreement to the renewed challenge.

XXX

During the afternoon, Legolas found his attention being purloined by Elladan and Elrohir. The twins liked having the young prince around for he rarely accompanied his father and their reputation preceded them when it came to wheedling snacks out of the kitchen staff, even if they _were_ far past their Majority. That was the downside to living until the ending of the world – everyone's' memories seemed to be rather long. But although Legolas was happy to help, for he also enjoyed the taste of still warm butterscotch biscuits, he didn't want to run out of time for his next prank.

As Legolas mused on this, Elladan spoke,

"So, Master Legolas, got any special plans for later?" It was said in a casual, friendly voice, but Legolas saw the gleam long associated with mischief sparkle in the grey eyes. Not wanting to give anything away, he just shrugged.

XXX

As it was, Legolas did manage to find time to set up his prank. To be honest though, he was glad that he had been waylaid slightly as it would hopefully get a far better reaction if there were more around to witness it – although, if the reaction to yesterday's 'occurrence' was anything to go by, then he didn't have anything to worry about.

XXX

Elrond and Thranduil emerged from the day's council rather pleased, for the talks had gone well. Actually, it was Thranduil who was the most pleased as Elrond was still pondering the fiascos of the last couple of days – having had many years of pranks from his sons, he knew a suspicious 'lull of events' when he saw one. He only hoped that the increasing gap between this morning's disaster and now would not be an indication of the magnitude of what must only be around the corner.

Surprisingly, dinner passed uneventfully and Elrond decided that to really relax, he would lead his visitors on a night time stroll around the garden for the night-blooming flowers would be opening shortly.

To his very great delight, Legolas was also invited – he didn't want to miss _anything_.

Glorfindel also wanted to relax so he excused himself from the party and strode off to the stables – he much preferred a gallop with Asfaloth to walking around the gardens, magnificent though they were. Legolas watched him go with a gleam in his eye; it would only be a matter of time now...

Even though he was expecting it, Legolas still jumped when Glorfindel's agonised cry sounded out across the Valley – a Banshee couldn't have been shriller. Everyone within earshot (and that happened to be most of Imladris) charged towards the stables. When they got there, they found the Lord Glorfindel rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open, staring at his beautiful horse. Not that Glorfindel would have described Asfaloth's current look as 'beautiful'.

Every single strand of mane and tail had been braided, not only that, Legolas had also managed to entwine pink and purple ribbons and flowers into the tight, tiny braids. Asfaloth looked rather sheepish as though he had put his trust in the wrong Elf or in this case, elfling.

As his elders began chattering away, trying desperately to console Lord Glorfindel, Legolas grinned. Those in the know grinned back – the game was on.

TBC.


	3. Parchment

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: I haven't definitely decided such a detail as Legolas' age, but I imagine him to be the elven equivalent of about 10/11 years (thanks to Arlya to making that point – I realise that people can't see into my mind. Oooo, I wonder what they'd find if they did...) Anyway, enjoy – the story NOT the looking into my mind!

**CHAPTER 3 – PARCHMENT**

The culprits kept their heads down for a while after that. It had been agreed that, although Legolas' idea had been stupendous, it had also been rather daring, not to mention foolhardy. Glorfindel cared as much about his horse's appearance as he did his own and Legolas had managed to tie the braids so tightly and make them so minute that the Balrog-slayer had spent almost the whole night detangling them. Glorfindel flatly refused to cut any of Asfaloth's hair off.

It might have taken less time to do had anyone actually been brave enough to stay and help Glorfindel, but he was _not_ in the best of moods. Besides, many parents had whisked their extremely curious offspring out of earshot very quickly for the string of dwarvish curses that emanated from the stable had begun to turn the air blue.

"Ada, what do all those words mean?" asked a very wide-eyed Arwen as she was pulled in the direction of the Last Homely House. As Elrond struggled to come up with a suitably diplomatic response, his eldest piped up,

"We could tell..." but Elladan was quelled at once by look from his mother – she really did manage to look like _her_ mother when she was angry.

XXX

Sunlight filled the room, making its sleepy occupant screw up their eyes. Then the early morning birdsong started, relaxing the still half-asleep Elf – Erestor loved to listen to the birds. The chief-councillor stretched, rubbed his eyes, sat up and... paused. He turned his head towards his bedside table, where he kept the small pile of books he was currently reading. The books were still there, but his quick, elven eyes had picked out something that ought not to be there. Frowning slightly, he put out his hand and plucked from between the leaves of the topmost book a tiny square of parchment.

How peculiar – he didn't remember putting it there; in fact, why should he, when it was far too small to be of any use? Erestor shrugged, dismissing the matter, and went to draw his bath.

Breakfast got under way with the usual cheerful chatter. Erestor was just about to pour himself some fruit juice when another scrap of parchment caught his eye. It had been placed within the folds of his napkin. He picked it up and studied it carefully, but again dismissed it.

Poor Erestor, these two incidents should have put him on his guard – odd and innocent though they were, or at least, _appeared_ to be. The quiet councillor was meticulous in his habits and hardly ever deviated from his general day-to-day routine; centuries of doing the same things had had their effect and little did he know that this set him up as a prime target...

XXX

Fortunately (or indeed, unfortunately, depending on whose point of view you take), the morning's council had been cancelled because of a lull in the recent rains. While most people took the opportunity to wander about the gardens or down to the river, Erestor decided to visit the library in order to help repair some of the most ancient and battered tomes.

As he took one of the volumes over to his desk, he noticed that the books already on his desk had been moved slightly – they weren't so tidily placed as before. They were also – horror of horrors – not in their usual order (by year and then alphabetised, if you're wondering). Erestor quickly checked the books over, thinking that they may have been knocked from the desk, but they evidently hadn't.

Had someone gone to his desk – _his desk_ – and deliberately rearranged his books for no apparent reason? Erestor then noticed another square of parchment lying on his desk. Now if Erestor was feeling malicious, he would begin to suspect that someone was following him or at least teasing him, but why would they do that?

Poor Erestor, if only he'd thought then, if only he had made the connection between him and Glorfindel, then he might have been saved a lot of hassle, but then again, maybe not.

XXX

The morning passed as if in a moment for Erestor, absorbed as he was by all the wonderful texts in front of him. Then in the afternoon, with everyone fed and watered, the council reconvened and the conspirators hid just along the corridor, waiting.

Erestor took a sip of water before beginning to read out the draft of the treaty that the council had been working on. Outside, the conspirators strained their ears, trying to catch every sound, but all they could hear was Lord Erestor's soft voice.

Erestor took another sip, vaguely wondering why the words upon the page were blurring slightly. He stopped, blinked, and shook himself.

"Erestor, are you OK?" Elrond's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"Yes, My Lord, I'm fi-n-e."

And Erestor started up again. He hadn't got more than a few words along before he gave an almighty yawn and, as though in slow-motion, slumped forward in his seat, head coming to rest upon the table in front of him. Silence reigned, both inside the council chamber and out in the corridor.

"Erestor?" said Glorfindel, who was sitting next to him. He shook his friend gently, but to no avail. Even though Erestor's eyes were closed, which is not generally usual for an Elf, Glorfindel could hear his steady breathing and there was no strain to it which might indicate some injury. So, to all intents and purposes, Erestor was merely... asleep.

"I think he's fallen asleep, Elrond," concluded the golden lord. "Now, I don't find all these talks and treaties exactly riveting, but I didn't think that Erestor would be so bored by them that he'd fall asleep during his own speech."

"Asleep?" queried Elrond. "Why would he fall...?" Elrond paused, goblet in hand. He'd just taken a long swig from it. He then turned his attention to the shared jug of water in the middle of the table. "Oh dear" was all he could say before he too keeled over and lay motionless, goblet slipping from his hand. Fortunately, no one else had drunk anything and they all made the connection.

"Now, this _is_ interesting," said Thranduil delightedly. He'd been thoroughly amused by (most of) the antics that had gone on during the past few days. Glorfindel, who, needless to say, had _only_ been amused by this turn of events, merely looked at the King of Mirkwood before speaking,

"Well, they're obviously not in any danger, so let's get them back to their rooms where they can sleep it off."

The conspirators watched from their hiding place as the rest of the council emerged, trying to look dignified as they carried the two comatosed Elf-lords off to their private quarters. To tell the truth, they had thought it a bit of an anti-climax to have only two victims and no loud noises at all, but then again, they hadn't expected Lord Erestor to fall asleep while he himself had been talking.

XXX

Erestor opened his eyes, blearily wondering where he was for a moment. Then he noticed that it was his own velvet covers he was lying on. Sitting up, he surveyed his room and blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes... wait a minute... had he – _he_, Lord Erestor, the highly respected chief-councillor of Imladris – fallen asleep? No, it couldn't be; such a thing was unheard of, but then why...

Erestor started to replay the day's events in his mind: working in the library, the council... oh, sweet Eru - the council! His speech... had he fallen asleep during his own _speech_? In a most unbecoming and unlordly fashion, Erestor scrambled hastily off the bed, grabbed the first pair of shoes that came to hand, and went haring off down the corridor.

He skidded to a halt outside the council chamber and burst through the door to find... no one. Where was everyone? He backed out into the corridor, nearly colliding with a passing maid, who looked at him strangely. Erestor couldn't quite decide whether it was puzzlement or amusement that flashed across her face.

"The council had to break-up after the... err... incident." OK, it was definitely amusement. "I believe you will find Lord Elrond in his study."

"Thank you, Lindariel," said the embarrassed councillor and off he went – as nonchalantly as he could manage – to find his Lord.

Just as Erestor reached Elrond's study, Glorfindel came out; his bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he surveyed the advisor.

"Good afternoon, Erestor; had a nice nap?" Erestor's ears burned as he slipped inside. "Nice shoes, by the way."

In his haste when leaving his room, Erestor had managed to put on a pair of deep blue shoes – ones he usually wore on more formal occasions. They didn't not match his robes exactly – black generally goes with anything – but it was clear that they weren't intended to be worn with his current outfit. To Erestor's mind, it was just another humiliation in what had already been a horrendous afternoon.

When the sound of Glorfindel's chuckles had died away, the two dark haired Elves looked at each other.

"Do I really want to know what happened?" asked Erestor as he went to sit opposite Elrond. Elrond grimaced and shook his head, but answered anyway.

"We fell asleep during the council – gave Thranduil and Glorfindel no end of amusement apparently."

As one, both Elves momentarily closed their eyes – Glorfindel was never one to miss an opportunity for gossip, even when it concerned his nearest and dearest. Although, Elrond doubted whether even Glorfindel would have the courage to gossip about his own wife, should he ever be so lucky as to find one, but that was neither here nor there. Elrond continued,

"It seems someone drugged the water."

"Any idea who?"

"Possibly, but I don't want to accuse anyone needlessly and no real damage was done."

"I'll bet that it was the same Elf who's been following me around with bits of parchment all day." As if to illustrate his frustration, Erestor thrust his outstretched palm right under Elrond's nose.

The effect was not all that he'd hoped for, for Elrond took a little while to focus, so quick was Erestor's movement, and then he just stared dumbly down at the tiny piece of parchment that Erestor had taken from his shoe before putting it on.

"How many have you found?" he said eventually.

"Including this one... four." Even to Erestor's ears, this sounded pathetic. Elrond leaned back in his chair.

"Someone drugs our water and you're worried about four tiny pieces of parchment?"

"Well... it's... annoying – who could be doing it, and why?"

Even Elrond had to admit that he couldn't see the point of 'planting' (if that is the right word to use) tiny pieces of parchment about the place.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Erestor rose.

"Well, I'm going to do some more work in the library. I'll see you this evening."

Instead of going directly to the library, however, Erestor went to his rooms in order to change his shoes. Fastidious to the core, Erestor just could not contemplate wearing the wrong shoes with his outfit, even if they would never be seen, for _he_ would know that they were there and it would be on his mind continually.

Upon entering his room, Erestor went straight to where he kept his shoes and stopped dead. Every single shoe had a single scrap of parchment laid upon the toe; Erestor had not noticed this in his previous hurry. It must have taken whoever it was ages to get every piece at the same angle and in the same place. Erestor breathed in heavily, this was beginning to annoy him, especially as it was now crystal clear that this was no accident. He also hated the idea of any of his things being tampered with. His mood was not improved by having to get down on his knees to remove all the parchment scraps.

Having finally finished and throwing the parchment triumphantly into the grate, Erestor (feet now properly attired) made his way to the library, only to find that – once again – his books had been tampered with and that a single square of parchment had been left on top of the pile. This was almost the final straw; Erestor grumpily rearranged his books before sitting down heavily and bringing his chair forward with a loud scrape. Everyone winced and looked up, but when they saw that it was Lord Erestor who was even now scratching away rather harder than was necessary when rewriting books, they all went back to their work. Erestor never usually ignored the rules of the library; when he did, it was a sure sign that he was _very_ annoyed. At least Glorfindel had an outlet for all his frustrations.

XXX

When the bell to signal dinner finally rang, Erestor sat back with a contented sigh. He had managed to finish rewriting the book on the history of Quenya and he had been left alone to do it, and now he was feeling quite ready to sample some more of that fine Dorwinion that Thranduil had brought with him.

After dinner, there was singing and dancing in the Hall of Fire and the wine flowed ever more freely. Erestor began to feel very light on his feet; he twirled merrily with one elleth and then another, admiring the colours on each of their dresses. In fact, all the colours in the room seemed ever more fantastic, ever more beautiful. Erestor wanted to dance and dance and dance, but he didn't want to dance with an elleth; no, he wanted to get up on the platform and show the crowd just how good at dancing he was.

He started to make his, for some reason unsteady, way over to where Lindir was striking up another ballad – that Lindir! He'd show that Lindir just what a good performer could do!

Erestor gained the platform and looked about him – ooooo, the colours! Elbowing Lindir out the way, Erestor stared into space for a moment, before calling out,

"Everyone! This is what a good performance really looks like!"

Elrond was speechless – what on Arda was Erestor doing? He started to make his way over, painfully aware of what all the Elves from Mirkwood were thinking – all seemed to be having a great laugh at Erestor's (and his) expense. He hadn't gone many paces, however, when Erestor lifted up his robes (fortunately, he was clad in light leggings as well) and began to fling his legs out in front of him, first one way and then the other. If Elrond hadn't been so worried as to what could be wrong with his friend, then he would have admired the way, even in his current state, Erestor was keeping in time with whatever music his brain was telling him he was hearing. (A/N: Imagine Erestor doing the can-can).

"Look at me, everyone! Look at meeee!" Ooooo, the colours were sublime, his dancing superb, and that music... Erestor wanted to keep on dancing, but then he managed to focus on Elrond, whose mouth was now sagging, as were a lot of others, but Erestor couldn't see these, he could only see Elrond.

"'Rondy!" he called, the sound echoing horribly in the otherwise completely silent Hall. "My 'Rondy!" He flung his arms forward, but this combined with his none too slow, or indeed steady, rhythm sent him face first off the platform and into dizzying blackness...

XXX

Hours later, Erestor woke; the moonlight shone through the chink in the curtains, lighting up the healing wing. His head throbbed. He sat up, looked around, and groaned pitifully, but it wasn't his headache that bothered him, it was the sight of a single square of parchment lying upon his bedside cabinet.

TBC.


	4. Always Look Where You're Going

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: A lot of you have asked about the significance of the parchment in the last chapter – it was nothing deeper than an annoyance tactic; you know, you see something annoying in the corner of your eye and you can't rest until you've moved it or whatever. Piece of parchment is now reaching the same level to Erestor as braiding Asfaloth's mane is to Glorfindel.

**CHAPTER 4 – ALWAYS LOOK WHERE YOU'RE GOING**

Legolas picked up another stone and tossed it into the river. It wasn't fair! Insider knowledge had been utilised for the joke on Lord Erestor – he wouldn't have know about all of the chief-councillor's little habits and foibles. Neither would he have known the location of the sleeping drugs or what particular type of mushroom to use for the hallucinogenic. He sighed; on the other hand, though, it was said that 'all's fair in love and war' – was this war? It certainly wasn't love – eurgh! The elfling cringed at the thought. OK, maybe it wasn't really 'war' either – his father had always told him never to joke about such things, but a challenge had been issued and now Legolas had to rise to it – again. Plus, the Spring Festival was approaching – fast – and the Mirkwood Elves hoped to leave after that – hmmm, what was he to do?

The young elfling studied the water – hmmm – all the pranks up to now had essentially been quite original, but then again, you couldn't really beat the classic ones. Although originality does work wonders, dying someone or something wasn't _exactly_ original, but the initial prank in their 'make these boring councils slightly _less_ boring' plan did have a rather amusing twist.

_I wonder where they keep their buckets..._

XXX

"Ahh, good afternoon, little one. Come to wheedle more biscuits out of me?" Eruanna, who worked in the kitchens, giggled.

Although young, Legolas could turn on the charm like nobody's business, especially when he knew that those on the receiving end had a bit of a soft spot for him. This Eruanna had, well, she had a soft spot for all elflings, especially those who delighted in her cooking so much (like Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir) and who she didn't see very often (like Legolas). It probably also helped that Legolas had never managed to flood the kitchens, set fire to them, or put a whacking great hole in the roof (although Elladan and Elrohir preferred the term 'sky-light'). As stated previously, the Twins' reputation preceded them.

Legolas demurely put his hands behind his back and looked up at Eruanna out of his big blue eyes, a sweet (one could almost say 'innocent') smile playing about his lips. Now, if Elrond or Thranduil had been standing there, they would have been able to see right through Legolas and out into the corridor behind him, but they weren't. Perfect.

"But your biscuits are so delicious, Eruanna, and I won't be here for very much longer... "

"But we're up to our eyes preparing for the Spring Festival, little one."

"Please, Eruanna, just one; I promise I'll be very quiet."

Eruanna felt herself wilting.

"Very well, then, but mind you keep out of the way."

Legolas beamed and placed his little hand into Eruanna's floury one. He was led over and lifted up on to a wooden surface; Eruanna then poured him some fruit juice and handed him a fat, chewy biscuit. As Eruanna went back to preparing some sweet, sticky pastries, Legolas swung his legs and ate and drank, all the while keeping a look out.

XXX

That night, the young Prince of Mirkwood could be seen creeping downstairs to the kitchens, a stack of buckets in his hands. First he visited the cold-store and filled his buckets with small blocks of ice. He then placed the buckets in certain 'strategic' places before preparing two final, 'special' buckets.

Once all his tasks were complete, Legolas made his way back to his room. He fell asleep with a small grin playing about his lips.

Tomorrow was going to be good.

XXX

Legolas was on tenterhooks all through breakfast – he liked this sort of prank, for you didn't know when the results of one's labours would come to fruition and the resulting tension made it all seem so very exciting.

Even though it was going to be a nice day, Legolas opted to stay within the confines of the Last Homely House. When Thranduil questioned this, for like all Wood Elves, his son took every opportunity to be surrounded by nature, Legolas answered that he wanted to visit Lord Elrond's magnificent library as he hadn't really done so during their visit. Fortunately, this was both true and was backed up by the fact that the elfling was known for his love of maps and books as well as his bow. Equally fortunately, Elrond chose that moment to compliment Thranduil on rearing a son whose thirst for knowledge of _all_ things in Arda must be a great credit to him. The justifiably proud father missed the gleam in his son's eyes.

During the morning, Legolas sat in the library reading... and listening... and waiting.

His patience was soon rewarded by an almighty crash, followed by a shriek of surprise. Many within the library stopped what they were doing and rushed up the corridor to where the unfortunate maid was standing. She and the linens she had been carrying ('had been' being the operative phrase) were soaked and were surrounded by a puddle of water. Judging by the tiny fragments of ice that were still visible, the water must have been cold; shockingly so, in fact. (A/N: I realise that this probably isn't scientifically possible, but I'm taking on a bit of creative license to maximise Legolas' fun!)

"What on Arda has happened?" The sound of Elrond's worried voice came floating up the corridor, followed swiftly by the Lord himself. It wasn't often that someone shrieked in Imladris and when they did, you could generally be quite certain that they had been the victims of, well, his sons.

"_ELLADAN! ELROHIR!_"

Silence followed.

"I believe they said they were going out riding today, My Lord." Elrond raised his eyebrow and turned to look at the ellon.

"Well, that _is_ convenient, I must say!" Elrond sighed; he was far too used to such happenings. "Very well, get that water cleared up and everyone get back to work." The Elf-lord then turned on his heel and went back down the corridor, velvet robes swishing behind him.

_Well, this is a turn up for the books _thought Legolas. Elladan and Elrohir seemed to have a, no doubt well deserved, reputation for such things. His father maybe rather over-protective at times, but being an 'innocent' little elfling certainly has its advantages. The day was going to be even better.

XXX

Throughout the morning, the sounds of crashing, sloshing water and indignant shouts became very familiar to all within the Last Homely House. As a result, everyone became very wary of any doors that had been left ajar, and always remembered to look up if they were.

Legolas plopped down on his bed.

_What spoilsports!_

Although, he supposed he should be thankful for small mercies – no one had 'found' his two special buckets. Yet.

And it wasn't long before they did.

Unfortunately, the first one just happened to involve Glorfindel, who had no idea of the morning's happenings having been out on the training grounds since breakfast. The tall, proud Balrog-slayer strode purposefully along the corridor. He was rather dirty and couldn't wait to get into his lovely, warm bath. All was silent.

Glorfindel briefly wondered why the door at the end of the corridor was pulled almost shut.

He soon found out.

Elrond was later to describe the resulting yell as 'one loud enough to wake the dead'.

Having gotten used to the crashes and yells, most people didn't pay that much attention, but those who were on Glorfindel's path to his rooms, quickly made themselves scarce or at least, very unnoticeable as the now _very_ irate golden lord stormed passed them.

To be fair, Glorfindel had just, not only been covered in icy water, but also had his third dying of the month. Legolas had managed to secrete a lot of jet-black dye in with the water and Glorfindel just happened to be wearing his favourite colour: dove-grey.

Legolas hid in his room – it was too much to hope that he wouldn't give something away if he saw Lord Glorfindel anytime soon.

But the other special bucket had yet to be found. Legolas hoped that it would have a 'victim', for it was such a good (or wicked; take your pick) one.

XXX

The morning turned into the afternoon and everyone met for the afternoon meal.

"I see you've changed your clothes, Lord Glorfindel," said a perplexed Thranduil. He too had been away all morning.

"Yes." This was said through gritted teeth. Elrond, noticing his seneschal's... err... rather ill-humour, explained.

"We've had a spate of buckets over doors, if you get my meaning. Unfortunately, Glorfindel's was also full of dye."

"Ahhh."

Nothing more was said on the subject and when Thranduil announced his intentions of visiting one Imladris' many waterfalls, many decided to accompany him. Legolas decided he would go too, having been stuck, albeit willingly, inside all morning.

"I'll just return my papers to my room; I believe I left them in the green council chamber last evening," commented Thranduil lightly as they set off along the corridor.

Legolas tutted inwardly – adults and their council chambers! He started to lag behind slightly, admiring the elegant marble statues. The group stopped outside the council chamber, Legolas caught up. His father was saying something to Lord Elrond, but Legolas didn't catch the words, for he suddenly realised where they were.

In his mind's eye, he saw the bucket full of treacle and duck feathers balanced precariously, just waiting for someone to open the door...

"Ada, watch ou..."

Oops.

TBC.

A/N: I'll be going away for the bank holiday this Friday – I will try my utmost to put up the next chapter before then, but if not, I promise I will post it early next week.


	5. Celebrations & Revelations

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

**CHAPTER 5 – CELEBRATIONS & REVELATIONS**

Silence reigned. After the crash of metal bucket on to stone floor, the silence seemed to penetrate and surround the stunned group ever more fiercely.

Thranduil stood there, still as a statue, the thick, dark treacle oozing into his pale hair and down his robes, the feathers covering every inch of treacly surface. Even in the current circumstances, Legolas couldn't help but admit that his prank had worked wonderfully well.

Or so he thought.

"It would appear that those responsible had much more on their minds than merely iced water," said Elrond eventually. Glorfindel, who had been eyeing the unfortunate elfling, spoke up.

"One wonders, little Prince, how you knew about the bucket before your father had barely opened the door. I don't know about anyone else, but I certainly didn't spot the bucket before it fell."

Every single eye was now fixed upon Legolas. He stared up at the Balrog-slayer, eyes unblinking, breathing slightly heavier than normal.

"Care to explain?" Glorfindel's voice was light, but there was tension in every syllable. Legolas stared nervously around him.

"I... um... well, I..." Legolas swallowed and a comforting hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder. It belonged to Alyan, one of his father's councillors. All around him, all the Sindar in the group turned to look at Glorfindel. They were all perfectly relaxed, but the message could not have been clearer.

Elrond then placed his own calming hand upon Glorfindel's arm before kneeling down so he was at Legolas' eyelevel.

"Will you please explain, little one?" Grey eyes locked with bright blue.

"Well, your councils are always so dull and... just wanted to lighten them up a little."

"So your idea of 'lightening up' was to dye me and my clothes copious times?" Legolas looked up at Glorfindel; the feel of Alyan's hand on his shoulder gave him courage and he squared his small shoulders.

"How was I to know you were going to walk under that specific door?" Alyan's hand tightened slightly, but Legolas didn't think it was from anger. One of the other Sindar cleared his throat.

"OK; what about the other times, then?"

"Wait a minute, Glorfindel, be reasonable." Elrond rose to his feet. "How could Legolas have dyed your bath oil when he wasn't even here at the time?" This seemed to sway Glorfindel.

"My apologies, little one. However, the fact remains that..."

"...that my son did not cause any serious harm to anyone or anything." Thranduil finally stirred and took his place beside Legolas. He too eyed Glorfindel. "Apart from, that is, certain people's... _pride_. Rest assured, Lord Glorfindel, my son will be punished, but I believe it is _I _who holds that authority." Looking down at his son, Thranduil placed a hand on the elfling's back. "Come, Legolas, we shall have a little talk in my rooms."

As he was led away, Legolas relaxed, but only slightly. He was glad to out of Lord Glorfindel's reach, but he was just a little apprehensive as to this 'punishment'. Legolas was by no means _quite_ the angelic elfling everyone took him for, but he'd never participated in such an attack (if you will) on people before.

Well, he'd never been caught.

Thranduil waited until they were safely inside his rooms before he swung his son high in the air, kissing him playfully on the cheek.

"Oh, my son, I'm so proud of you! It's about time these upstart Noldor were taught a lesson and in their own haven as well." Thranduil sighed delightedly and set his rather confused son down.

"You're not angry with me?"

"Oh, Legolas, how could I be? I've never had so much fun at one Elrond's councils in my life, even if I was a 'victim' at times. When Elladan and Elrohir were elflings, all their jokes somehow seemed to target the nearest Sindar. It's about time they got a taste of their own medicine. Well done!" Thranduil chuckled slightly before continuing, "All the same, I'm going to have to 'punish' you – for appearances sake only, you understand – and you must promise to not try anything else, OK? "

"Yes, Ada, I promise."

"Very well. Right, I'd better have a bath before all this treacle sets like rock."

XXX

For 'punishment', Legolas first had to make a formal apology to Elrond before helping the maids mop the floors. Legolas was amused to see that one of the hall floors still bore the faintest tinge of blue.

Life settled down at Imladris; that is, until Elladan and Elrohir returned from their day's riding...

XXX

"Well, brother, I can safely say that I've been thoroughly impressed by the young Legolas' antics, even if he did get caught," Elrohir commented.

"So have I, brother, but I don't think we can let him tarnish our reputation. We've been too lax, letting him have all the fun. And I must say I agree with him, these councils really can be terribly boring..." Elladan rubbed his hands gleefully. "What say you to a bit of night time fun with the councillors' hair? I believe I can find something suitably greasy and sticky."

"Ada will be furious _when_ he finds out, which won't be long into tomorrow if you're suggesting what I think you are." Elladan shrugged.

"We're adults, what can he do to us now?"

And so, that night, it was Elladan and Elrohir who could be found creeping through the halls of Imladris. They had managed to drug all the councillors by slipping a light sleeping draught into their wine when they had a final toast celebrating the completion of the treaty before retiring. None of the council was spared, even Elrond, who might have been if Celebrían hadn't been attending a young elleth's first birth. They even managed to target Glorfindel, who had (for some reason) recently taken to locking his door at night (Elladan and Elrohir simply gained entrance by the use of the secret passage that led to the Balrog-slayer's bathroom). However, by doing this, they also sealed their own fates...

The next morning, birds were scared from the trees as the sound of multiple cries of horror seemed to emanate from every corner of the Last Homely House. Doors opened hurriedly followed by the sounds of scurrying feet as everyone rushed to see what could have happened.

It was not a pretty sight – all the councillors, Sindar and Noldor alike, had what seemed to be dried beeswax in their hair. Their hair, once so fine and flowy and loose, was stuck out stiffly at odd angles, some was even sticking up slightly (A/N: E & E have attempted to create Mohicans). All the hair that wasn't defying the laws of gravity was all tangled and messy and would in all likelihood take many painful hours of careful washing and combing to set right.

Legolas also came rushing up and immediately wished he hadn't because Glorfindel immediately turned on him, his rage barely concealed behind his mask of diplomatic composure. Legolas hid behind his father, who drew himself up, the very epitome of paternal protection.

"Lord Glorfindel, my son gave both Lord Elrond and I his word that he would not try any other pranks. Believe me when I say that Legolas has _never_ broken his promises."

It took a minute or two for Thranduil's words to sink in, but when they had, the halls echoed with only two words.

"_ELLADAN! ELROHIR!"_

From their hiding place atop one of the roofs, Elladan and Elrohir listened with baited breath.

"I told you he'd be furious!" Elrohir hissed as he punched his twin on the arm. "This won't go unpunished, you know, however long we stay away." Elladan didn't answer; he appeared to have lost his bravado. Can't blame him, really.

XXX

The Twins stayed away all day and slipped back into the Last Homely House when darkness had descended. They were going to collect some supplies before going away for a few weeks; they hoped that the longer the amount of time between now and the inevitable 'lecture', the less angry their father would be. Maybe the longer they stayed away, the less angry and more worried Elrond would become.

As it happened, that hope was a very vain one.

As they tiptoed to the kitchens, Elladan and Elrohir's keen elven senses picked up danger; the House was almost too quiet.

"Going somewhere?" The very quiet, very ominous voice of Glorfindel was right behind them.

Elladan started to speak, but he was cut-off by one of the seneschal's hands coming down on his shoulder (the other went on to Elrohir's).

"Don't even think about it, young Peredhel, your father wants a word with you, as do I."

Despite the lateness of the hour, the Twins were marched straight to Elrond's office and not permitted to sit. Elrond himself arrived a few minutes later.

"Explain," said the Lord shortly.

"Well, um... that is to say... err..."

"Whatever excuse you give me, Elladan, I would prefer it to be said in more coherent manner."

"Well, we were so impressed by Legolas'... antics that we decided to... participate." This last word was almost whispered; Elladan could tell immediately that he'd said the wrong thing.

"'Participate'? That, Elladan, has to be almost the worst excuse you have ever given me. By Elbereth, you're adults! When will you ever learn? It's bad enough you playing your usual jokes on a normal day, but when there is a very important council convening? I've never been more ashamed of you two." Both Twins studied their feet. "Perhaps you thought that punishment would not be so swift or deep now that you're adults? Well, I can tell you here and now that you certainly _will_ be punished, for you may not be elflings anymore, but I'm still your father and the Lord of this realm. However, seeing as Glorfindel has had more of his fair share of being the target, I think he shall be the one to decide on what you can do to repent."

Both Elladan and Elrohir looked up first at their father and then Glorfindel, who had a little gleam in his eye almost akin to that of the hunter once he has sighted his prey and is about to strike. The Twins gulped.

XXX

After that, life really did settle down (well, sort of), for the Twins' punishment was very comprehensive. First, they had to help mucking out the stables and cleaning the horses and then they were sent to Erestor in order to help him copy out reports and treaties. The only rest they got was at night and at mealtimes because Glorfindel intended to keep this up until the Spring Festival, which was set to be within the next week or so. For his part, Elrond thought that Glorfindel had been a bit excessive in his choice of punishment, but he had given his word. At least they were fully occupied and when they weren't, they were too tired to try anything.

Eventually though, even Glorfindel agreed that the Twins had been punished enough and they were allowed their freedom and everyone helped with the final preparations for the Festival.

The Festival itself was a huge success and there was not a prank insight, which greatly saddened Legolas, but he had promised his father. Besides, there was always next time.

XXX

The party from Mirkwood left a couple of days after the Festival and everyone was finally allowed to properly relax and put their feet up (well, metaphorically speaking anyway).

One evening, a few days later, Elrond and his family were all gathered in their private sitting room, when Elrohir raised a subject they had all been thinking about.

"If you ask me, Glorfindel was the one responsible initially. Then no one would suspect him and I doubt anyone is _really_ brave enough to dye his bath oil. At least the beeswax washed out relatively easily."

Both Elladan and Elrond laughed, but little did they know that the real culprit, the real catalyst for the whole affair, was sitting in the corner of the room reading demurely.

XXX

"Is that true, mamma? Didn't anyone suspect you at all?" asked Eldarion incredulously, new respect for his mother etched all over his face.

"No; well, your grandfather may have eventually, but he never said as much. I think he liked the mystery and suspense as much as I did. I also think he was rather tickled by the possibility that his 'innocent' daughter _was_ the one brave enough to dye Glorfindel's bath oil!" Eldarion giggled. "Now, my son, it's about time you went to sleep, for your father would never forgive me if you missed your very first training session."

Once Eldarion was snuggled deep within his blankets, Arwen kissed his forehead, blew out the candle, and left.

Later, when the palace was dark and quiet, Arwen heard a scuffling by the door – a piece of parchment had been pushed under the crack. Arwen grinned as she read the very same words that she had sent to Legolas all those years before.

_What a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive._

_And when we've practiced quite a while, how vastly we improve our style._

_Do you accept the challenge?_

The Gondorian courtiers would have to learn to watch their backs.

THE END.

A/N: That's it! All done! I hope you all enjoyed it, I know I certainly enjoyed writing it :D. I'd just like to say a very big thank you to all my kind reviewers, not to mention all those who haven't reviewed – the fact that you've simply read my story still gets me all girlishly excited. Hugs and kisses all round, I think. X

By the way, a little something for song in the woods: How the hell did you guess it was Arwen? It was supposed to be a secret! How do you do it?


End file.
